A continuation of my novel 40. This falls after the post 40: Vegas.4.
My head ached as if it had been hit with a blunt object. My equilibrium was fading. I could sense it by just blinking my eyes. And though it seemed I had slept forever, I was groggy. But my stomach growled from a ferocious hunger. Who knew how long it had been since I’d eaten? I looked at the bed, at all of the unfamiliar objects I had thrown out of my bag. I decided I’d clean up, drink my mocha, and hunt for my identity tomorrow, after a good night sleep.
I walked into the bathroom and collapsed on the open toilet. I urinated while I massaged my temples. I then walked to the sink and automatically reached behind the faucets for my toothbrush. It was there. Likewise, I instinctively reached for the toothpaste and found it awaiting me. This familiarity comforted me. But as I brushed my teeth, I noticed an unsettling sight as I looked at my face in the mirror. A line of stitches spread out from under my hairline on the top, right-side of my head. Running my fingers over their course tracks, I realized the wound continued on midway across my skull, hiding under my scruffy hair. I accidentally pressed on the wound. A sudden and sharp ache overtook me. I bellowed and crouched, holding onto my knees. I then stumbled to the bed, holding my head with one hand. I quickly gathered the items on the bed and threw them back in the bag. Tossing the bag against the wall, I then slid the suitcase off the bed.
Maybe the hot drink will help alleviate the pain, I thought. I lumbered over to the desk and grabbed the mocha. The volcanic-looking peak of whipped cream had melted into nothing more than a rolling hill. The residue of its majority had left a white creamy mote sitting at the base of the mug. I picked it up and began sipping it. It wasn’t as hot as I thought it would be so I gulped it down, finishing it off. Something in the drink coated my esophagus and clung to it for a few seconds. I began walking over to the sink to swallow some water when the light in the room became most unbearable to my eyes. I stammered toward the door to turn off the lights. But as soon as I started, the room began losing its moorings. I felt my muscles relaxing. There was a presence of numbness creeping up from some cave deep inside me. The sensation felt like going under before an operation. I quickly turned and lurched for the bed when suddenly I was being pulled backwards into a dark hole, spiraling down. I don’t recall ever reaching the bed.
11:11:31 PM  | |
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